


Vrrrrooooom 2

by Skyepony



Category: The Sentinel (TV)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-18
Updated: 2020-02-18
Packaged: 2021-02-28 06:54:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,523
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22779781
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Skyepony/pseuds/Skyepony
Comments: 2
Kudos: 10





	Vrrrrooooom 2

Vrrrooooommmm II.  
by Skyepony

Disclaimers: All the standard ones, don't own 'em though since Pet Fly doesn't want 'em I get first dibs if they put them up for adoption. No money made.

My continued thanks to Susan for keeping me supplied with great stuff to read, and to her and her sister for a wonderful home for my stuff. Thank you. P.S. when is the next story going to be posted….. sorry couldn't resist.

So help me, as soon as I catch up with him I am going to kill him. I might as well. At least that way a friend instead of a stranger'll kill him. The idiot is always begging for it. No sense of self-preservation. He doesn't need a 'blessed protector' he needs a 'blessed battalion of protectors'!

It shouldn't surprise me really. This day had started to go wrong when it was barely past midnight.

After having worked a grueling two weeks straight to find and rescue a kidnapped eleven year old, Blair and I were supposed to have had this and the next two days off. But last night some jerk had tried to break into the loft. Robert Collins definitely qualified to be featured on America's Dumbest Criminals. Explain this one to me…what kind of moron picks a Major Crimes detectives home for his first heist? It had been almost pitiful. When the story makes it's way around, and I plan to make sure it does, the stupid turkey will never be able to lift his head in polite crime circles.

Even if I hadn't been a Sentinel I would have heard the clank of the window in Sandburg's room being pried open at a little after three in the morning. In less than a second I'd grabbed my gun and bolted down stairs. But in that time Collins had jumped over the sill into the room. Umm, sort of. Unfortunately for the would be cat burglar, his bound through the window had landed him right on a soundly sleeping Anthropologist. Thrown off balance by the unexpected soft mound of blankets, comforters and snoozing TA, the clumsy crook took a nose-dive straight full length on my partner. Even Blair couldn't sleep through that! The last few years of having been kidnapped and shot at had improved his reflexes and he came from sleep to wide-awake in a fraction of a second, bolting upright. As a result robber Robert suddenly found himself rolling off the futon to the floor, twisting in blankets as he revolved. My partner meanwhile had tried to scrabble away from his barely perceived attacker and ended up floundering off the mattress to land heavily right on top of the completely enveloped goofball.

By the time I burst, gun drawn, through the French doors into the small spare room, I was greeted with the sight of a cylinder of linen tightly swaddled around our perp with a completely confused Sandburg straddling the tube and looking up at me with a classic 'what the hell happened?' look on his face.

To really make the situation even more absurd it turned out one of my neighbors had seen the break-in in progress and called the station. Coincidentally a squad car had been right on my street when the call was dispatched. I had had two gung-ho patrolmen pounding at my door before I had time to unwrap the madly struggling thief.

The two beat cops where from the Southside precinct, I had worked a case with them years before but not recently. As I watched their eyes peruse the weird show before them I rapidly became pissed as they enjoyed the whole thing entirely too much. Collins meanwhile had been screaming and bucking angrily on the floor, looking like some demented giant inchworm. Simultaneously my partner had assumed the lotus position on the floor nearby trying to 'center' himself after being just this side of a panic attack, yet still taking the time to lecture the crook on the inadvisability of breaking and entering a cop's home that he hadn't even 'cased' first. Me….well I suddenly had a lot more insight into what Alice must have felt during her visit to Wonderland. I leaned my forehead up against the cool plaster of the wall and prayed for patience. In fact I felt pretty proud of myself when all I did was lay my brow there, I felt like pounding my entire head right through the surface.

The two officers, Bailey and Tucker, took their sweet time proceeding. I forced myself to stay non violent as my enhanced hearing heard the younger cop snicker and hiss at his partner "that's monster bad ass Ellison….?"

Yeah, hard to believe but there had been a time when my name had been synonymous with lethal. But that was PMS…Pre Meeting Sandburg. Now…. well now I took the bizarre as common place, and truth be told I wouldn't trade now for then for all the money in the world. Or more precisely…. looking at my partners face beaming up at me with quirky humor, I wouldn't trade him.

Finally the officers had unrolled Collins by the simply expedient method of yanking hard on one end of the roll and letting him tumble out, and of course the numb brain had begun yelling 'police brutality'.

It had taken a while more to cuff him and read him his rights. So it was nearly dawn when the door finally closed behind the whole circus. I'd turned to make some snide remark about the whole absurd episode with the one person I knew would have seen it from his own personally bizarre angle. But instead my amusement had increased when I spotted my partner, still in lotus position, or more a wilted lotus position, fast asleep on the floor.

Waking him up without some immediate threat to his life proved only halfway successful. But I at least roused him enough to help him shuffle groggily back into his room where he tunneled head first like a gopher back under the various layers of covers that festooned the mattress. Within a minute the mound of bedclothes stilled and the soft snuffly snores that characterized his sleep followed me up the stairs. Even knowing that I'd have to go to the station in the morning, day off or not, to do the report on the night's caper didn't bother me much. With my territory secure and my Guide safe within it I'd found sleep quickly.

When I'd woken a few hours later Sandburg had already left on his own morning errands, so I had just gone straight to the station.

Taking in bagels and cream cheese for the gang, I'd set to work trying to compile a passable file on what I considered a generally embarrassing event. It took longer than it should have, but I've never been good at that part of the job. In the years since we meet, Sandburg had assumed the chore most times, much to the relief of everyone involved. What can I say; I can see a signature at fifty yards but my own handwriting…even I can't read.

I'd finished up the paperwork on the Collins case early and was pleased when my partner called. Even as I had agreed to meet Sandburg for lunch I remember thinking, 'well things are going right for a change'. Stupid I know. Talk about a guaranteed jinx!

Now here it is, the Fourth of July, Independence Day, and I am in pursuit of my partner, who's in pursuit. Problem, one: he's not a cop, problem two: he's not armed but the perp is, problem three: did I mention… HE'S NOT A COP! How do these things happen? The answer is simple; trouble is Sandburg's middle name.

I had left the station a little after noon heading for Cascade General. Sandburg had gone there to donate blood. I almost chuckled remembering him explaining his rationale the day before, "with the number of withdrawals you and I make Jim, I figure I owe them a deposit or two ya know." I had to agree with him there, between the two of us we had received enough blood to keep a dozen Dracula's fed. Hey, like I said, my partners a trouble magnet. Oh, yeah, and I seem to have pissed off probably half of Cascades criminal big hitters.

Also I'm sorry to say that as 'Blessed Protectors' go, I must be 4F, since Sandburg had seen the inside of the damn hospital, involuntarily, way to many times. The fact that we're on a first name basis with most of the staff was not something I was necessarily proud of. Even worse, our blood types and other vital information remain on permanent little index cards in the emergency room and surgical suite. No wonder the kid felt like he owed something to the place.

But in typical one hundred and ten percent Sandburg fashion, he had even convinced the whole gang at major crimes to 'give til it hurts' as Simon had put it. Despite an impressive assortment of excuses from all the big macho cops at the station, my ever so tenacious partner had nagged, whined, pouted, and guilt tripped each man until they had surrendered. We all had various appointments at the blood bank over the next week. My trip to the bloodsuckers, ummm excuse me, technicians, since Blair was dating one right now, was tomorrow.

Oh Joy! Just what I want to do on my day off. But I'm smart enough to not even try to avoid giving in to Sandburg. One thing I've learned in our years as friends and partner's is that Blair Sandburg does not have the word 'quit' in his vocabulary. Between a sharp mind, sharper mouth, and eyes that Megan claims are straight off a 'Precious Moments' figurine, no one successfully denies him.

So I save my energy for the important stuff, like getting him to capitulate and let me bring a Wonder burger into the loft every once in a while! Did I mention he takes his responsibilities as my Guide so seriously that he frequently usurps running my diet? I've taken to sneaking meat meals with Simon on days that the kid is tied up at the University. And then, even though I'm the Sentinel, not Sandburg, I brush my teeth and take a breath mint to hide any evidence. Hey, what can I say…..man, and Sentinel, does not live by rabbit food and macrobiotics alone!

Anyway, Blair had arranged his appointment for the morning. Firstly because it was a holiday and summer break at Rainier so he had no classes to teach for the next week. He wanted get the donation done so that he could do anything he felt like the rest of the time. Second, Deborah, not Debbie I'd been reminded surreptitiously in Sentinel low tones when I was introduced, worked the worked the a.m. shift in the blood bank and he hoped to take her to lunch after.

When she had informed him that she was going to have to skip lunch and attend a meeting he'd been appropriately disappointed and then called me to see if I could get away.

His call had arrived at almost the moment I completed the last line on the Collins report. When I said as much to him he'd chuckled mischievously and asked if I'd strained anything doing my own paperwork for a change. After I'd reminded him that smartasses never prosper he'd cordially invited me to get stuffed.

Once those vital amenities were dealt with and the kid had explained his misfortune he'd somehow managed to maneuver me into offering to treat him to lunch to reward him for his magnanimous gesture of blood donation.

I still can't figure how he does that. It's sort of like when you play that game with strings around your fingers, 'cat's in a cradle' or something like that. It looks so simple you think you can follow where it starts and end's, yet somehow when you are finished you're all tied in knots? Following a Sandburg conversation is sort of along those lines. I remember the start but have no idea how at the end I was buying lunch….. What's really weird is it doesn't even bother me, I just sort of go with the flow, oh God I'm even starting to sound like him! What will become of 'kill you with a glance Ellison'? Oh well, I'd worry about my rapidly vanishing hardass reputation after lunch.

My erstwhile partner guesstamated that he would be done donating just about noon and volunteered to meet me at the station, but that idea hadn't thrilled me. Okay, I admit it; it hadn't thrilled the 'Blessed Protector' pretty much. I had watched Sandburg overwork until he dropped, literally, from exhaustion. Then another time been called by Rainier when he had reported to teach class with a temperature of 105 and started hallucinating. I was only too aware that though the kid had made it his calling to look after my health, unfortunately he tended to ignore his own body's needs all the time.

Thinking back to a couple of times when giving blood had left me feeling lightheaded I was uncomfortable thinking what it would do to my lighter built best friend. And in usual 'trying to get ten things done at once Sandburg fashion' I knew that Blair hadn't eaten breakfast this morning, which couldn't help. I doubted my Energizer Bunny partner would slow down enough to even notice if his act of kindness left him feeling woozy. Worse, he was riding around on 'Tonka' his metallic blue Vespa scooter.

The compact motorized bike had become Sandburg's primary mode of transport since he had been loaned it at the start of spring. Originally he had planned to use 'her' only until he had saved enough to repair his beloved Volvo. But the weather had stayed unusually nice and Blair had found the convenience of the little bike an incredible asset and he had just continued with her even after the 'classic' was fixed. He was chocking away his savings until fall forced him to return to a less exposed vehicle.

I had accepted the new addition as the lesser of evils since at the time I had thought he was considering a high-powered Indian motorcycle. Having lost a close friend to a cycle accident when young I had sort of zoomed right into hyper Blessed Protector mode at the imagined threat to my Guide.

Truth be told I still didn't really like Sandburg riding around on the little thing. Too many drivers' overlooked biker's and ran right over them. But his attachment to 'Tonka' was solid and I had learned from harsh experience that as much as I wanted to keep him safe, Sandburg would only allow so much 'mother henning'.

Maybe I was learning from him though. Because I'd shrewdly managed to convince him that since I was buying I got to choose the eatery. And I'd chosen a spot close to the hospital so there was no reason for him to haul all the way over to the station.

I'd figured that by taking a break and eating he would get over any post-donation wooziness before he hopped on the bike.

Yeah, that had been the plan. But did I mention that Sandburg's middle name is trouble?

I'd been only a couple of minutes from Cascade General when my radio had squawked and dispatch had bleated out "All units and Echo 7, 11-17 reported at Cascade General. Suspect is armed, Caucasian, five feet nine inches, brown on brown. Blue ball cap, navy windbreaker, tan jeans. Black roller blades. Last seen headed east on Wilmore." I felt my breath catch, robbery at Cascade General, what where the odds that my partner was right in the middle of it? But even as I thought the thought the dispatcher nailed it for me. "Please be advised, civilian observer in pursuit. Observer Caucasian, five feet nine, long, curly brown hair, brown jacket, blue jeans, on blue Moped. Echo 7 meet David 11 on tac two." It took me a second to tune in to the voice as a blinding red haze of rage had momentarily filled me. Damn it Sandburg! When the hell would you learn?

David 11 was Rafe's call sign, but I ignored the request for me to radio him. I was already pulling into the lot in the front of the hospital. I didn't touch the breaks until I was practically rolling over the meticulously dressed cop who stood in the door to his brown sedan.

He still had the radio mike to his mouth as I squealed up beside him. As I plowed out of my truck he turned toward me with a definite look of dread on his face.

"What the hell happened Rafe?" I snarled angrily, then hauled in my fury when I saw how upset he was. The fashion plate detective was good friends with Blair and also had tried to be a sort of back up blessed protector. Like I said, my partner needs all the help he can get.

Shaking his head disconcertedly Rafe tilted his head toward an Emergency Van carelessly parked by the hospital ER entrance. Then he began flipping through the pages of his small spiral notepad.

"A transplant donor heart was being delivered. Apparently the roof top chopper landing area couldn't be used because of an electrical fire there early this morning. The thing was flown in to the airport and rushed here in the van. The vic says that Sandburg was just coming out when they arrived. Then the perp on roller blades hopped out from behind the sign there." He pointed to the large cement sign by the walkway with Emergency Room carved into it. "Shoves a gun, Luger from the description, into the medics face and grabs the cooler." His eyes came up from his notes to look at me with a bit of distaste. "Did you know they transport organs for transplant in beer coolers? I may never drink beer again." Then the seriousness of the moment reasserted itself and he became all business again.

"The medic tries to hold on to the thing and the perp shot him in the leg for his trouble. Then the thief just takes off on his roller blades."

"Sandburg?" I growl pointedly and he nods in understanding.

"Well Blair see's the whole thing, runs up and puts a tourniquet on the medics leg, shouting for help the whole time. The medic apparently tells Blair that the heart is for a fifteen year old girl who's heart was damaged when she saved a little kid from being hit by a car. It's the only match. Also the transplant heart doesn't last long, if it isn't returned soon it won't be usable and the girl only has a few hours to live without it."

"So…" I supplied the obvious, "Sandburg jumps on his bike and takes off after the heart, ignoring the fact that the perp has shot one person already to make the snatch."

Rafe looked worried as hell. "Yeah, pretty much. Docs heard the ruckus Blair was making and came and took the medic. Blair apparently gives them the perps description and tells them to call the station."

Nodding, I was already climbing back in the truck. The engine roars and rubber burns as I stamp on the gas and haul out of the lot heading north.

The radio is repeating the APB. This time the dispatcher even says Blair's name when she gives the information about the pursuing 'observer'. Isn't that an oxymoron, observer should mean watcher, NOT CHASER! But it was so damn typical. The kid was an incredible soft touch. After hearing the story behind the snatched heart there was no way he could have not tried to help. But why in the name of heaven couldn't he just help FROM A DISTANCE!

He could have just stayed at the hospital until I got there; he knew I was on my way. Then I would have gone after the perp but he would have been safely ensconced in the passenger seat with me and a few tons of steel between him and possible flying bullets.

But that just wasn't Sandburg's way. For all that the kid was a veritable brain trust on most subjects, he lacked the most basic common sense of survival. You'd think that someone who had studied hundreds of cultures, could realize that the tribesman or city dweller who spent too much time looking out for the other guy and not looking after his own butt usually ended up not seeing the lion or spear coming his way, and ended up extinct!

The dispatcher rattled out an update. Now the skater had been spotted turning north on Hillston, being followed closely by a 'Moped' riding civilian.

For a mad moment I felt the urge to call in to the dispatcher and inform her that Blair was on a scooter, not a Moped. But that was just the intolerance for crap that sometimes enveloped me when my partner was in danger.

Yeah, so that's how come I am racing through the streets leading to Hillston. AND why I'm going to kill one kind hearted, thick-brained anthropologist TA when I get him safe.

The floor of the truck stubbornly refused to allow my foot to press the accelerator through it, but I kept trying. Then the turn off Mission onto North Hillston was accomplished on two wheels. I spiraled out my hearing, catching and discarding one sound after another. I filter through hundreds of car motors while keeping my vision cranked up to not only avoid wrapping myself around a tree but to split my focus enough to prevent zoning on my hearing.

All the time I hear Sandburg's voice in my mind. "Just concentrate, but not TOO much, just ease into it. You know how to do this man…you just gotta connect the perception to the practice, natural as breathing man." Yeah sure. How is it I have the senses and yet he seems to have the instruction book to them? I mean he always seems to know just what I'm feeling and what the problem is. And the solutions just seem to pop out of his mouth. Of course sometimes you have to siphon through the BS. But the answer is always there.

It's funny; he knows I know when he's winging it. What he doesn't know is that I have just as much confidence in him when he's pulling answers out of the thin ether of the Sandburg zone as I do when it's backed by shit loads of his damn research. Maybe even more. The kids intuition is so, so, hell I don't know how to explain it. But whatever powers that be that came up with the bright idea of giving these jack in the box, disorderly, left turn at Mar's senses to a rigid, screwed up control freak, must have gotten a really cackle when it put all the inborn knowledge and capabilities to help in the wacky package of my partner. Like the whimsy of making a super sharp knife and then making it useless except with a wildly exotic sheath to contain it.

Maybe it's some weird cosmic lesson in balances. If there were more opposite types than Sandburg and I, well I not only hadn't meet them, but thinking about that possibility gives me the willies.

Before that thought could get to far, suddenly my hearing slammed into an unshakable lock on a now familiar sound. pfistompfistompfistompfistompfistomp.  
Though much more rapid than I was used to hearing it I'd recognize that tell tale sputter putt sound of Sandburg's beloved Vespa anywhere. Once I had a firm hold on the sound I piggybacked my sight onto it.

I was just in time to see the hind tire of the little bike vanish down a narrow alley in the distance, headed west. Still keeping my hearing securely fixed on the sound of the receding bike, I grabbed up my radio mike. "Central, Echo 7. Civilian observer pursuit of 11-17 perp now turned west between Hartford and 6th. Please be advised civilian on Vespa scooter is my partner Blair Sandburg and he is unarmed. Establish cordon on Kilmont, Wilshire, and Main." If the perp continued west the pair would come out from the blocks of tenements on Kilmont, but could bolt right back into the alleyway and proceed to Wilshire.

Unable to fit my truck down the narrow pass that my partner had used I continued down Hillston until I could cut across on the southern access road of Rainier Park.

My ears informed me that I was rapidly intercepting my errant friend. And yeah, I still plan to throttle him once I catch them both. Grinding my teeth I continued down the dirt path figuring they must have turned north on Kilmont.

Only a moment or two passed before the sound of the scooter I sought seemed almost on top of me. Or rather under me? I hissed in frustration as my path took me clattering over a culvert bridge. Looking down I was just in time to see a harried looking man on roller blades with arms madly pumping to maintain speed flash past below me on one of the park jogging paths. Peeking out of the dark pack on his back was the recognizable handle of a small ice chest.

Maybe twenty feet behind came Sandburg. Like an Evel Kinevel wanna be he was hunched forward behind the handlebars to reduce drag, his hair flying straight out behind him. The fact that a guy was outrunning his motorized scooter on skates should have been funny. But just as I started to scroll my vision in on him a sound like a cherry bomb going off assaulted my ears and I almost lost control of the truck.

Skidding to a stop, momentarily deafened, my vision took up the slack and focused on the perp who was just firing a second shot, over his shoulder, toward Blair! Luckily it was impossible to aim backwards while zooming over a concrete sidewalk on roller blades at close to forty miles an hour. The expansion breaks every couple of feet in the cement must have been jarring the guy's teeth out. Of course that wouldn't matter much cause when I caught him I was gonna knock all his teeth out anyway for taking pot shots at my partner. That would be just before I throttled Sandburg for being there to be shot at!

Stamping on the accelerator I hauled over the bridge onto Kilmont and yanked the wheel over to barrel north on the four lane.

Zooming along at speeds that only my lights and siren made possible, I quickly pulled up parallel to the chasee and chaser. My eyes bounced up ahead along the landscaped wrought iron fencing that encircled the park. The fence was too thick to try to mow down with the truck, though I was sorely tempted. As far ahead as even Sentinel sight could see there was no break in the metal barrier.

Pivoting my head from the road to snatch a look at Sandburg, my hearing filtered past the variant other noises to wrap around Blair's mumbling voice. For a second I couldn't quite figure out what he was saying. "Droptheheartmandropitcomeonjust throwitawaycomeoncomeon." Typical Sandburg, being shot at has really spooked him, his voice shook with barely contained fear. Yet despite his heart being up in his throat he was focused on retrieving the life saving organ. I have no doubt that if the crook had obeyed his mumbled plea and simply discarded the cooler and it's precious contents, Sandburg would have left off the chase and let the thief go. It took very little imagination on my part to hear Blair's voice "I am like soooo not into dodging bullets man."

It was about now that I realized that Sandburg was catching up to his target. The blade runner was finally exhausting. This was not a good thing. An animal run to ground is twice as dangerous as one on the run, and this particular animal had a Luger!

I had to get Blair to leave the chase to me. I leaned heavily on my truck horn several times. Two hundred yards away both the perp and my partner grabbed a quick glance toward the noise and then jerked their eyes back to the path. The crook, on spotting my flashing lights got an adrenaline spike and suddenly found another burst of speed, hauling a bit away from the bike again.

Blair's voice pulled my hearing to him like it was attached. "Jim I am soooo glad you found us. This jerk stole a transplant heart big guy. Some kid is gonna die if we don't find a way to get it from him soon. Damn he's fast on those little wheels."

Hair blowing in his face Sandburg continued to stare straight at the perp, like if he looked away for any length of time the guy would be swallowed up by the ground. I leaned against the horn again, laying on it for quite a while. Then shouting out the window, "SANDBURG! I'll take over, STOP!"

Again my partner stole a glance toward me, and I could tell that though he couldn't hear me over the distance and engine noise, he could see my face. He saw me wave him off and he saw that I was shouting. But his attention was yanked back as the skate crook took one of the paths that veered slightly further away from Kilmont.

"Ummm Jim he's moving east here. Can you like circle around and like you know, head him off at the pass? We are running out of time, if we don't get that heart back to the hospital soon it's going to be useless."

Shit, he was obviously not going to give up the chase. Scrambling one handed through my pocket I snatched out my cell phone. Without even having to look down I punched the two-digit auto dial code for Blair's phone.

As I held the phone to one ear the other was still riveted to my partner. There was a little disorientation as I listed to the ringing in my phone at the same time as I heard the more muffled ringing coming from Blair's position.

When it continued to ring unanswered I growled out "Come on Chief. Answer me." Instead of coming to a stop the nutty professor just started carrying on a one-way conversation with me through mid air. "Jim that has got to be you. Are you nuts man? How am I supposed to get my phone out of my backpack at forty miles and hour over uneven pavement? Get real, despite what the ladies say, I am not an octopus, and I need both hands on the handle bars or I'm going to end up eating dirt man."

I almost ripped the steering wheel off at that point. Arrrrgggghhhh. Jeez for a guy with a one ninety IQ there were times when he couldn't buy a clue. Though the more likely possibility was that the kid was purposely not figuring out that I was trying to get him to stop and leave the pursuit to me. Like I said, tenacious and Sandburg is synonyms.

As the path they were presently zipping along was moving progressively further from my parallel course along Kilmont, I tried to think where the chase would next take them. This whole cross-country had not been some panic ridden guy bolting anywhere for escape. His entire path had been down only narrow routes that no police car could follow, that took prior knowledge. He wasn't just going any which way either, he had been consistently heading to the northwest. This all was somehow part of his strategy. He couldn't expect to just keep skating. Eventually just what Blair had suggested would happen, an ambush would be set up. So he had to have thought of another means to frustrate vehicle pursuit. And I think I knew just what he would try.

Just as that thought percolated to the surface Blair's excited voice popped up seemingly right next to me as he raised his voice over his motors engine. "Hey Jim, I just thought of something. We're headed right for the courtyard, he must be going for the bridge man!"

As disconcerting as is was to have my own thoughts come popping out of Sandburg's mouth, I'd kind of gotten used to it over the years.

If they continued on their current course they would be at the courtyard holding the ramp access to the pedestrian cross bridge at the middle of the park. To narrow for anyone except people on foot, the bridge was a fly over straight to Main Street. And today was Independence Day! If the roller bladed thief made it across he could quickly lose himself in the Fourth of July parade crowd. No pursuit would be feasible in the mad press of people lining the parade route.

Sure enough my ears picked up the change in tempo and tone as first small skate wheels then rubber tread tires altered direction and moved onto a smoother surface. Cursing I braked hard just under the viaduct twenty feet above me and reached for my radio. But within a few seconds the clatter of fast pumping skates announced the perp.

Throwing down the mike I climbed out of the truck and pulled my weapon. But I re-holstered it immediately. Even with Sentinel sight, shooting upward at this angle through fencing would never work and the bullet coming back down might hurt an innocent.

Through the chain-link fencing that encircled the bridge I saw him clearly now. His face was masked with a really cheap fake beard and mustache below dark glasses. But I zoomed past the layers to note bone structure and features. I would now be able to recognize him sans disguise. Also at this distance I caught his scent as he was dripping with sweat.

Obviously though he had correctly planned for and frustrated any normal tracker, his original plan had never anticipated for a tenacious teaching assistant on a bike petite enough to follow him into the narrowest of spaces. He was breathing like a bellows and cursing and mumbling in a gasping monolog. "Screw the kid, get to the rendezvous, thirteen minutes… damn the guy…what is with him?" A few more deep nearly sobbing breaths as he disappeared into the tree canopy as the bridge continued over Wilshire. Even after he vanished from view I heard him make himself a promise. "Soon as I'm clear…. smoke this ass hole. Gonna…feel… great."

Speak of the devil….ummm sorry, anthropologist, here he comes. Blair had slowed the scooter since its handlebars were only slightly narrower then the fence sides. Suddenly he swung his eyes from ahead to look over the edge of the slab of concrete that formed the bridge. My vision soared to his face, seeing the moment he saw me. He smiled a smile that was equal parts nervousness, stubbornness and guilt.

I started to shout for him to stop, to give it up. My eye's promised him I would catch the guy. But in his intense return gaze I saw the clock that ticked off the seconds before a heart became useless to a little girl for whom it meant life. He wasn't going to stop.

As he too disappeared toward Main I whispered a soft plea. "Take it careful Chief." And at that precise moment his voice floated back to me. "I'll be careful Jim, but hurry okay."

Shaking my head I climbed back into my truck and reclaimed the radio mike. "Central, Echo 7. Pursuit of 11-17 is proceeding over Rainier Park pedestrian bridge toward Main Street. Requesting backup." Pulling off of Kilmont onto Pacific, even with the lights and sirens I leaned on the horn weaving through heavy traffic headed toward Main.

Almost immediately dispatch barked back, "Echo 7 meet Tango 1 on tac 2." I flipped the knob over and heard Simon already bellowing. "Ellison! Damn it where are you?" I winced as I heard a cacophony of voices, music and machinery just behind him. Turning down the dial on my hearing I flicked the button on the mike. "Simon? I need roadblocks set up on Main just north and south of the Rainier park pedestrian bridge."

Just then II had to come to a halt. Well past the intersection of Pacific and Wilshire crowds were inching toward Main on foot and in vehicles. They packed the through fare from sidewalk to sidewalk. Even with my flashing lights and siren there was nowhere for the vehicles ahead of me to move out of my way.

I threw the mike down, not even noticing Simons roaring continuing to issue from it. For a moment I cursed everyone and everything associated to Independence Day all the way back to Thomas Jefferson. Cascade takes its holidays very seriously. The afternoon would be filled with parades and picnics that would move further and further west as the day progress until by dusk everyone would be gathered on beaches and open fields to watch monster fireworks displays. When I'd been married to Carolyn she'd dragged me through the whole nine yards one year. That had probably been one of the earlier hints that we were incompatible, she had enjoyed it all. But we'd argued when I'd intervened with some jerks smoking pot right next to me. Hell I'm a cop! What was I supposed to have done?

But since my senses had come on line this holiday was my own particular type of Pergatory. Masses of smells, noise, and colors capped off with a sensory overload of explosions and blinding flashes. Yeah….. I really looked forward to the Fourth!

But this was worse. This crowd was between not only my prey and me which roused Sentinel hunter instincts and pissed the cop side of me no end. But far less acceptable was this crowd was between Sandburg and I. The Sentinel wanted his Guide safe, the cop wanted his partner safe and I wanted my friend safe.

The next thing I knew I was on foot moving through the wave of people and vehicles. What surprised me was I was making good progress? Then I spotted some of the faces around me. They were looking at me like I'd sprouted claws and whiskers. Then I heard a deep throated growling and realized it was coming from me. Not having a mirror I wasn't sure exactly how I appeared, but I could guess feral would have been an accurate description. The crowd parted like water before me as they sensed a predator among them.

I felt my hearing roll outward of it's own accord searching for Sandburg. But just as I caught the edge of a pfistompfistompfistompfistompfistomp sound I cringed and stumbled as my cell phone exploded into a shattering ring from my coat pocket. Pawing open the device I snarled "WHAT!" only to have an equally pissed off voice roar right back at me "ELLISON!"

Shaking my head I hauled back on the Sentinel's leash and toned down my aggression and answered with a more civil "Simon?" My boss though made no such effort. His volume control was right up at the Dolby stereo ear buster level, I could almost hear him without the phone. "ELLISON, I'M AT YOUR TRUCK, WHERE THE HELL ARE YOU?" Opps, now I remembered throwing down the mike right in the middle of talking to my Captain. Not a terribly smart move but I hadn't had the time then to explain it all.

"Simon.. I'm on foot just approaching the intersection of Pacific and Main." I had resumed moving through the crowd, though with more difficulty. I guess a flustered big guy on his cell phone wasn't as intimidating as a snarling, slavering, growling big guy. Go figure.

"Sandburg chased our organ thief across the pedestrian bridge onto Main. Can you get some backup down here? Tell them to be on the lookout for Blair on that little Vespa thing of his." I explained shortly as I dodged through the last of the bystanders. Coming out of the crowd I extended my hearing, hunting for that sputter putt putt noise I had come to know so well.

It should have been so easy. If the perp had followed his previous strategy and turned north after the bridge they should be passing right by me.

With ears peeled for that particular clarion call of a Vespa I suddenly found my hearing overwhelmed.

pfistompfistompfistompfistompfistomppfistompfistompfistompfistompfistomppfistompfistomp pfistompfistompfistompfistompfistomp pfistompfistompfistompfistompfistomp pfistompfistompfistompfistompfistomp pfistompfistompfistompfistompfistompfistompfistompfistomppfistompfistompfistompfistompfistompfistomp pfistompfistompfistompfistompfistompfistompfistompfistompfistompfistompfisto mpfistompfistompfistompfistompfistomppfistompfistompfistompfistompfistomp

My eyes swivel toward the noise and I think my jaw just might have hit the pavement.

There, in perfect drill formation eight rows wide by eight rows deep, were Vespa's. Everywhere I looked I saw scooters. Swarming in exact synchronization they split into two groups and began circling each other in opposite directions. Atop each bike was a guy in a three-piece suit. And crowning each gray haired head was a fire engine red fez!

Shriners?

I blinked. This had to be some weird Sentinel hallucination. This COULD NOT BE HAPPENING!

But it was. Whizzing and sputtering the swarm of bikes moved past where I stood, still stone frozen with stunned incredulity. Just then the scent of cigars tugged at the edge of my senses and Simon appeared beside me, mouth also agape as he stared at the Shriner motorized drill team moving by. Right behind came a float studded with bathing suited girls who smiled and waved as a speaker boomed out John Phillip Sossa.

I felt an irrational urge to burst into hysterical laughter. What I wouldn't have given to share this giddy scene with Sandburg right now. This just smacked of the Sandburg zone….. no way would this happen to anyone else. Really…..think about it. WHAT ARE THE CHANCES?

"Jim! How the hell are you planning to find Sandburg with all those damn things zooming around?" Simon asked as he gave his head a hard shake. I think like me he wasn't sure that he wasn't imagining the odd display, but his own worry about our stray anthropologist was rife in his voice.

But I was remembering another time, another mob of celebrating people. Sandburg had been missing and in danger than also. He had been helping a witness reenact a ceremony that left her entranced. But the bad guys had shown up and Blair had towed the spellbound woman into a crowd just like this to escape. I'd arrived to realize my partner was somewhere awash in the Mardi gras like crowd. And yet as soon as the thought had occurred to me my hearing had stripped away the thousands of sounds that surrounded me and plucked Sandburg's voice to the fore.

Remembering my success then gave me hope now. "Come on Chief, you know me better than I know myself. You know I'm looking for you in all this. Talk to me! " I murmured under my breath, sweeping my hearing out without a specific focus.

"Jim man, you must be around here somewhere and this crowd must be driving your senses crazy…. but I know you can find me." I smiled as I immediately zeroed in on that comforting babble. Piggybacking my sight I found him moving north on the far parallel sidewalk, weaving his scooter through the crowd. "I'll just keep talking, you know me, no problem with that. Ooops, close call there, not good for the karma to run over a little old lady. Just passed Pacific heading to Dunlop, think maybe he's headed toward the 'Follie'. Arrrh, wow…cold, cold, cold…. damn kid just sprayed me with one of the heavy-duty soaker pistols. If I had time I'd….."

For a moment I tuned out Blair's running monologue to turn toward Simon. "Get backup to the Hartman tower Simon, the perp is headed there." Then I took off at a dead run. Since the sidewalks were packed with spectators I went right down the street through the parade participants.

Within a minute I was running right through the Shriner drill team who were thrown out of their rhyme by my intrusion. I started slightly when one of the riders with a long gray handlebar moustache honked his horn just behind me. It sounded like a strangled goose!

I was just about to snarl something rude when Kyle McKinley, one of the cycle patrolmen from my precinct rolled up.

"Ellison?" Was all he said before I launched into a hurried request. "Kyle! Listen I'm in pursuit. Need to borrow your bike." Something in my tone or expression must have spoke more eloquently than my words because Kyle was off the bike in a heartbeat.

Swinging my leg over the seat I twisted the throttle impatiently once, satisfied when the engine growled deep and powerfully almost in echo to the Sentinel within me. With lights and sirens blaring I headed south weaving between floats, jugglers and marching bands, all the while listening to my partner's oddly soothing soliloquy.

"Sorry about the ice cream cone lady. Didn't mean to joggle your arm but it's mighty tight around here. Scuse' me, scuse' me. Sorry! Coming through. Jim you had better get your cop butt here soon or one of these citizens of our fair city is going to knock my block off. Watch it kid! Watch it! No, just let go of the leash for a second and it'll roll under the tire and Bowzer will be just fine. See! Told ya. No I can't give you a ride….. Why? Because I'm chasing somebody. Arrrgh, you little delinquent! BRING BACK MY EAGLE FEATHER!"

The last was said at enough volume for me to hear even with regular hearing. I was also close enough to have seen the small blonde haired kid who had snatched the feather that adorned the scooters antennae. With an evil smile the Dennis the Menace clone, dragging a small mutt at leash end, disappear into the crowd.

The charm of the scene was quickly lost as I watched Blair turn his attention back north and steer suddenly off the street into the wreaked lobby of the derelict Hartman tower.

Edward Hartman had built the high rise almost a decade earlier during a financial boom. Meant to serve an exclusive clientele Hartman had spared no expense on the offices, layering them in luxuries like marble floors, solid bronze fixtures and paneled wood walls. Unfortunately the boom was as short lived as the demand for atrociously expensive office space and just after it had started advertising for leasers, the market had 'adjusted' and Hartman had gone bankrupt. Even the bank hadn't been able to unload the twenty story white elephant that became know as Hartman's Follie. The city, frustrated by the deteriorating monolith, now had plans to turn the tower into multi-departmental city services building. It was rumored that Major Crimes might even move to the location eventually.

Though Sandburg and I had both figured out that wasn't what had probably attracted our organ thief to the site. No. It wasn't the interior of the tower that was part of the crooks plan. But I would take bets on the exterior being the target.

Ten floors up the tower shrank to half its width for the remaining ten floors. This indentation left room for the expansive heliport site on the protruding roof. It was the only goal that made any sense. If Sandburg hadn't gotten involved the skater could have inconspicuously snuck along his back alley escape route to here and then up to the roof for pick up.

Looking down at my watch I was astonished to see that it had been only forty-five minutes since the pursuit started. Having Sandburg on his tail had probably accelerated the skater's arrival time, so it was possible that his copter escape craft had not arrived yet and we could nail his butt.

Laying down rubber as I screeched to a halt at the tower entrance I saw that the marble entryway was too narrow for the large police cycle, but had apparently been a perfect fit for the Vespa which was now only a few yards ahead of me nearing the back of the abandoned lobby.

Rumbling with aggravation I ditched the cycle and took of again on foot after my partner, pulling my gun as I entered the building. The immense vestibule echoed with the puttering engine of Blair's bike as he finally closed the last few feet between him and the lagging skater. Sliding one arm out of his backpack straps he let the pack slide down his right arm. Catching the strap firmly in his right hand he allowed the canvas satchel to arch behind him and then he swung it like a golf club! The follow through was perfect and the book-laden pack caught the thief solidly in the back and sent him diving onto the polished marble floor.

The perp slid a dozen feet on the slick surface. Sandburg didn't even come to a complete stop. Hurriedly he hopped off the bike, sliding its weight up and forward onto its 'U' shaped kickstand, and rushed toward the prone crook. The backpack he had used to fell the hood slid unnoticed off his hand onto the handlebars, tangling in the throttle. The engines continued to roar but the kickstand kept the spinning back tire just barely off the floor and it tilted forward to bounce lightly on the front.

With a chill of fear I saw the criminal roll awkwardly but quickly onto his back, bringing his gun up as he got the arm free. My own gun was useless as Blair was right between the felon and me.

Even as the robber's gun swung up to bare on my foolhardy partner, I launched from just behind, taking Blair down in a full body tackle.

I heard the ping bang of the shot and felt fire bore through my left upper arm and then the grunt and whoosh of expelled air as Sandburg landed on the floor and I landed on him.

Scrambling to roll over and bring my own weapon to bare on the villain I froze as a flat, emotionless voice hissed "Throw the gun away cop." I could tell he had regained his feet and now had a perfect bead on both my partner and myself. If I tried to spin around he would easily shoot me in the back. But if I let go of my weapon there was no guarantee he'd let us live.

My mind ran a dozen scenarios in mere seconds as I tried to think of a way out of this. But all my imagined trial runs ended the same way, Sandburg and I were dead.

The Sentinel suddenly was pushing to explode, damn the torpedoes, I considered taking the offense. Roll as fast as I could and even if I took a bullet I could still get a shot and take the perp down with me. Protect the Guide was a litany playing in my mind making the option acceptable. I tensed in preparation…..

"Jim stall him." Blair's voice was the merest whisper, even a strain for enhanced hearing. "Look at Tonka man!" His voice sparkled with excitement. Lifting my head I looked past the man with the gun aimed right at me and saw what Sandburg saw.

Exactly behind the crook, engine still roaring, back tire still spinning, the scooter teetered like a seesaw as it's front, stationary wheel lifted from the floor, counterbalanced by the several hefty tomes stashed in the saddlebags beside the seat.

Almost hypnotized, we watched for what seemed like an hour but in reality was less then a second. Excruciating millimeter by millimeter the front wheel crept up and the hind wheel descended.

It all happened at once. The crook just that second grew impatient and cocked the hammer in preparation to fire again. The hind wheel covered the last fraction of an inch to the floor, making contact. The crook sneered as he took aim at my head. The hind tire of Tonka, still spinning at top speed gained traction. The robber noticed the direction of our gaze. With the rubber squealing on marble the bike pivot up in a wheelie, hopping the kickstand. The thief started to turn…

The rearing bike slammed into the back of the bad guy. The wheel struck with so much force that not only was the guy slammed face down, his skate clad feet flying out from under him, his gun flying, but the bike then proceeded to burn a hot tread path along his entire length. Coming off the irregular surface of the flattened perp the scooter careened to the far side of the lobby. Wobbling only slightly in its course the bike finally came a halt as it slammed into the wall by the entrance just as Simon, Brown, Rafe and several patrolmen poured through the opening.

Rolling off of Sandburg I quickly scrambled to retrieved both my own and the crooks gun. Kneeling beside the still stunned skater I found my mouth twitching to a smile as I cuffed him. He looked just like one of those guys in a cartoon, where they get run over and you can see the tire tread pattern on skin and clothes alike.

Rolling the dazed criminal over and moving him to a sitting position I stripped the back pack off him while I began to read him his rights. Pulling the cooler out I opened it slowly, praying that the bike had not damaged it when it clobbered the crook.

Not being a doctor I didn't know a great deal about transplant organs, but the beer cooler seemed intact and the ice that surrounded the bagged heart was barely melting.

"Oh man. Mr. Bigtree is going to KILL me!" Blair's distressed voice came to me from across the room. Looking up I saw him standing over the now twisted metal and broken glass that had been a pristine preserved Vespa minutes earlier. As Simon and the patrolmen took hold of the bad guy I nodded at my boss in thanks and then moved over to Sandburg.

"I'm sorry Sandburg, I know you really loved that thing." I winced to myself… HER, I should have said loved HER. Blair always referred to the bike by either Tonka or a female descriptor.

But the kid didn't even look up, his sad face just reeked of grief. "I promised I'd look after her man. And look what I let happen!" He shook his head in sorrow.

"Wasn't you fault Chief." I tried to be convincing, I still planned to ream him out for taking on the pursuit in the first place. But hey, I can be sensitive. I wouldn't kick him while he's down. No. I'll wait until he's feeling better, THEN I'll knock some sense into that generous but foolhardy head.

"I know you feel bad Sandburg, but we really need to get this heart back to the hospital." I knew my partner well enough to know that the easiest way to distract him from his misery was to let him worry about someone else.

What I hadn't planned on was the worry target being me. As Sandburg's eyes came up from the tangle of bike parts his gaze went to my upper left arm and became saucer wide. "Jim! You're hurt! Shit, SIMON…GET THE PARAMEDICS IN HERE, JIM'S HURT." He bellowed in a demanding tone that he would be abashed to learn sounded remarkable like Simon's.

Looking down I realized that I indeed had been hit. A flesh wound probably but it was bleeding quite impressively. My whole left sleeve was slick and red with congealing blood. Now that I was looking right at it the pain that I had somehow instinctually dialed down surge back up completely out of control.

My face shriveled into a grimace of pain and my right hand went up to grab the wound. For a moment I was awash in fire, but then like a cooling shower Blair's voice reached in to me. "Easy big guy. Deeeeeeeppp breath, okay let it out. Now dial it down, find the dial and bring it down, ten, nine, eight, seven…." He stopped as he saw my face smooth into a calm, comfortable smile, but he continued to keep in place his gentle grip on my shoulder.

Nodding reassuringly I beamed gratitude at him. Then over his shoulder saw Simon suddenly loom up. "ELLISON!" Even I almost shrunk back from his scowling face and imposing height. He was royally pissed; his whole body language screamed 'make my day'.

It was warming though to see that his eyes where worried and solicitous. But he continued to vent. "Can't you two get through one day without one or the other of you getting shot?" He chomped on his unlit cigar and turned his head to roar behind him, "Rafe get those paramedics in here."

Almost in a blink I had two business-like paramedics, one anxious Guide and one intimidating Captain hovering and buzzing around me. "Hey?" I snap in confusion at the sudden appearance of the medics. Seeing my expression Simon gave an impatient snort. "I called for medical support as soon as I heard about Sandburg's pursuit… with you guys I decided it's just better to 'not leave home without them."  
He smirked at me with self-satisfaction.

I counted to twenty trying to control myself. It's one thing for me to mother hen Sandburg, he says it's instinctive for a Sentinel to worry and want to protect his Guide. So I have an excuse, right? But I don't do well being the subject of such treatment. In less than two minutes I had had enough and snarled crossly,  
"Enough! It's just a scratch. Just slap a bandage on. I have to get this heart to the hospital!" To underline my intent I began to pull away from the young female paramedic attempting to layer a thick dressing over the wound and wrap it with gauze.

But before I could move an inch two hands grabbed my shoulders and held me in place. The hand on my left shoulder was gentle, and moved in nervous twitches from place to place. I had no doubt who was connected to that hand. The hand on my right shoulder was immovable and I turned to find Simon's unflinching gaze staring me down. "The heart is going to the hospital Ellison. AND YOU WILL GO WITH IT! Are we clear on this?" His tone made it obvious just how clear it had better be.

Years in the military had taught me to obey orders even when my proud nature wanted to do otherwise. Additionally I had to admit that I was seeing a little blurry and the room seemed to slur to the side if I moved too fast. Maybe I'd lost a bit more blood than I thought. So I let them push me onto gurney and start an I.V.

I listened fondly to my partner grill the paramedics on every drug or chemical before it was used on me. Sometime in the period the paramedics where fussing over me Blair had retrieved is own backpack from the rubble of the bike and had carefully nestled the cooler within its folds. Now he hustled after me as the gurney was pushed along the side alley to the ambulance that they'd wisely parked one block west of the parade congested Main Street.

The pursuit from Cascade General had taken a little longer than one hour; the return trip took only fifteen minutes. As the vehicle pulled up to the Emergency Room entrance a small party of men and women dressed in surgical scrubs pounced on Blair. Snatching the cooler the team yelled a single sharp 'thanks' and vanished through mechanical doors to the surgery wing.

I was being rolled into one of the curtained cubicles when Dr. Martin stepped up beside the gurney. "Ah, Detective Ellison. Welcome back. We were wondering when we could expect you back." Smiling pleasantly he turned to Blair who had followed along behind. "Mr. Sandburg…nice to see you also. And upright and uninjured! Quite a nice change of pace." With a voluminous gesture he waved Sandburg toward the area of the doctor's lounge. "Well why don't you make yourself comfortable while we see to Detective Ellison. You know where everything is, you're here often enough." My partner winced at the jovial doctors jibe. Sheepishly Blair shuffled through the doors to the room usually reserved for medical staff. Sandburg and I had become such fixtures that the nurses has kindly put in a supply of Blair's favorite teas and hot cocoa for me. Okay already, I admitted we do tend to get into trouble, so sue me!

After a quick and way too jolly examination Dr. Martin cleaned the wound, added six new stitches to my collection and handed me over to Nurse Sweeney to finish the bandage. "You know the drill Jim." She said with a smile. "Keep it clean and dry. Change the dressing every day. Do you have enough antibiotic ointment left from last time?" I nodded and she continued in her usual efficient manner. "You'll take the sutures out yourself as always so I won't tell you to come back in ten days. Dr. Martin wants you to have another tetanus shot." I didn't argue, they'd let me slid on that the last three times. So it probably was about time.

Just then my hearing pulled away from Kate Sweeney to snatch hold of the familiar sound of a heartbeat that lulled me to sleep each night. Sure enough a second later Blair poked his head through the curtain. "Hey Katie. Jim…..I just spoke to one of the nurses in the surgery suite. We were on time with the heart. Isn't that great!" His face was luminous; lighthouses have nothing over the wattage of a Sandburg smile. Unconsciously he had started bouncing slightly on the balls of his feet with pent up nervous energy. Staying still for any length of time was a physical impossibility for my 'Energizer Bunny' partner. I started to answer his remark with my own heartfelt thanks that we had retrieved the organ in time, but as hyped as he was Sandburg was already talking again. "Katie, what's with Doc Martin? He's being so….. well…um….jolly? Usually he gives a long lecture about taking care, how the body could take only so much abuse. But he just looked at me and started whistling 'off we go into the wild blue yonder?"

Watching him talk, pace, bounce and gesturing constantly with his hands I didn't even notice Nurse Sweeney until the needle slid into my upper arm. "Yooowwwch! When do you plan to buy a new needle Kate? That one has been blunt the last dozen times you used it." I complained, rubbing the injection site and lowering my pain sensitivity.

"Oh suck it up Detective. I have eight year olds that don't throw as much fuss over shots as you do." She winked at Jim to take any edge off her words. "And as far as Dr. Martin, well Jim, you won him the pool on which of you would come in next. The money was heavy on Blair but he played the longer odds on you and won big. You have just paid for a round trip ticket for him to Mexico."

Snorting, I grabbed my shirt, or what was left of it, ever notice how ER people would rather cut something off of you than unbutton it? "So glad my taking a bullet could bring him such a payoff. Come on Chief, let's get away from these ghouls." I hopped off the gurney. I must have wobbled slightly because Blair was at my side steadying me carefully. Nurse Sweeney frowned and barked harshly. "Jim, you stay put until I get a wheelchair. You know hospital policy. NOW SIT!"  
I felt like a Labrador retriever as I obediently sank into a chair by the exam table. I heard Sandburg snicker as Kate left with a chirpy "Good dog."

Luckily Simon showed up at the same time the wheelchair did. With the rough affection of a bullying nursemaid he got us home and upstairs with practiced ease. All the time giving an abridged report of the end of our little adventure.

"Just after you got taken away a JetStar chopper landed on the roof. Luckily we had air backup and kept them from taking back off. Turns out the flight was arranged by Byron Torrance." Seeing my lack of recognition with the name he explained as he continued. "Torrance as in Torrance Industries, builds luxury yachts. Anyway, sixty-two years old and richer than sin. Turns out there was one thing his money couldn't buy him."

"A new heart?" Blair asked with disgust in his voice.

"Yep. Seems our guy was diagnosed with heart failure. But because he's half pickled his liver from alcohol abuse he's not eligible for a transplant. But apparently he crossed some of the right palms and got word when a compatible heart came up. All the plans were made months ago; to implement the minute the right heart was harvested. The fire was started to take out the hospital chopper landing area as soon as the transplant database reported the donation of a heart. There was a fast jet on the runway at the airport to whisk Torrance, and the heart, to a team of greedy surgeons in Canada."

Lowering onto the couch I shock my head. "Selfish SOB isn't he. It didn't matter that a kid who could live a few decades with that heart would die so that a rich boozer could live another year or two before Hepatitis or Kidney failure takes him and the heart six feet under."

Blair had settled on the sofa just next to me and his head was laid back and his eyes closed in concentration. Knowing how deeply my kind-hearted friend felt about protecting kids I knew Torrance's actions would disturb him.

"Chief?" I inquired softly, watching his stormy blue eyes come open and anchor to mine.

"She's fifteen Jim, I spoke to the nurses. Her heart was damaged when she ran into the street to push a four-year old child out of the way of a truck a few weeks ago." A moment's anger filled him, then flushed away before confusion. "How can a guy, especially one who has already been given so many years, decide to steal the future possibilities from a child? When that heart matching her type showed up so soon it was a miracle. And Torrance….." His distressed eyes ached with the sorrow of one who could never understand because he was incapable of even conceiving of something so heinous.

Simon left soon after and we talked for a little while about the whole day's events. Even though it was dinnertime neither of us was hungry so Blair just boiled some soup and we ate light and retired exhausted. I didn't even have the energy to keep my promise to myself and strangle the kid for putting himself in danger.

With the next two days off Blair and I just kicked back and 'vegged' as he called it. Blair contacted the hospital the first thing on the fifth to check on the girl. Mary Two Rivers had come through the surgery with flying colors according to those nurses that my shameless partner was able to smooze into discussing it.

With return to work on the seventh I found myself stuck on desk duty, worse, Simon expected me to use the time 'productively' and catch up all my paperwork. Nauseating thought! But luckily Sandburg was still off and helped me not only catch up, but survive being tied to a desk for five days. Though he disappeared for a couple of hours each day to check on the possibility of either repairing or replacing Tonka, but no joy.

By the next week I was released back to the field and Blair was due to restart classes the next day and he was still depressed over the loss of the scooter. John BigTree wasn't due back from France for a month yet, but the kid felt obliged to tell him what had happened without delay. But both our efforts to locate the man had failed. He had checked out of his room almost a month earlier and not left a forwarding contact.

Wanting to do something, anything, to cheer up my partner I got the bright idea of visiting the girl who's new heart had taken us on such a merry chase. I knew I'd guessed right when Blair positively lit up at the suggestion.

Two hours and a quick trip to the florist later we were escorted into the young heroines room. Considering she had just been transferred from the unit the day before, the room looked like it held the accumulated well wishes of several months. Cards, arrangements, balloons, drawings, finger painting's, and posters of the latest juvenile heartthrob festooned the room almost covering every available surface.

And at the center of it all, like a queen holding court, sat a tall, stocky girl with raven wing black hair braided into a rope that would have come to her knees.

When we walked in three of the people crowded around the young lady didn't even notice. But two pair of satin black eyes swung to envelope us almost as we crossed the threshold.

One set of eyes belonged to the patient, the other to a tiny, white haired women who was too old to even judge age. The minute' elder's face was so wrinkled that she resembled one of those dolls made with dried apple cores. But both the young and old eyes shared a singularly bright sparkle in them.

A moment later the middle-aged man of the group rose and looked at us curiously. "May I help you?" For such a big guy his voice was barely audible.

Blair, looking suddenly nervous quietly volunteered. "Well, ummm, we just wanted to come and see how Ms. Two River's was doing after the operation. We sort of got involved with her heart. Or anyway before her heart was her heart. I mean when it was still in the beer cooler…."

"Sandburg! You're babbling." I snapped good-naturedly, extending my hand to shake the other man's. "I'm Jim Ellison, Cascade P.D. Blair retrieved the donor heart when it was stolen." I explained succinctly. Then watched as Sandburg regained his momentum and vigorously shook the big man's hand also.

Just as Blair was released by the hand and started to turn to the youngster in the bed, he found the diminutive elder standing right in front of him. Her deeply tanned and weathered face was turned up to his. The black obsidian, too alert eyes caught his like prey in a web. Suddenly the anthropologist felt like he was peeled, sliced, analyzed and weighed in those eyes.

I noted the seeming trance the two had fallen into and instinctively stepped forward to my partner's side. But at the same moment the old woman took a deep sighing breath and turned those bird bright eyes on me. Her mouth formed singsong words that I didn't understand, but the young girl in the bed immediately began to translate.

"My great grandmother, a wise woman of 'the people', says to tell you 'Protector' that you need not worry about the young 'Path lighter'. She would never harm one of a Guardian pairing. But she is happy to see such among the whites before she is gathered to her long rest. She had had a vision that I was to be under strong protection, but she is grateful to the spirits who chose to let her meet you both."

Protector? Path lighter? Guardian? OoooKaayyy? Well this was already veering into the way to close to home to be coincidence hocus pocus mumbo jumbo that I really did not feel comfortable with. I went to open my mouth to thank the nice old lady and close the door behind us on the way out….. Fast!

But you might as well try to hold back a Tsunami as intercept Sandburg on his way to the 'zone'. "VISIONS? Cool!" He chirped as he already lost track of the whole room and was studying the woman with fascination plastered across his too expressive face. "I'm an anthropologist, I'd love to sit down and talk to you about your oral history. And visions, wow… man, would I ever love to hear about your visions. Do you have a lot of them? Do they always come true? Would you be…" He probably would have still kept talking but I thwapped the back of his head gently and growled, "Sandburg! Reality check…..Hospital room, guests, visiting. Not University, classroom, research."

By this point the entire audience was grinning at the byplay, and the twinkle in the great grandmothers eyes had deepened to amused fondness. The silver haired matriarch reached up and pushed a stray lock from Sandburg's face as she spoke again, the young translator snickering behind her hand as she translated. "My great grandmother wonders how the young seer's shadow can keep up with one who is always moving so much?"

Sandburg had the grace to flush slightly, but became even redder when the elder finished with "it is lucky that the 'Protector' is so large as he must take long steps to follow and keep safe one so quick and who I think is so busy looking at so much he walks unseeing into trouble."

I couldn't help but snort a laugh at that. "Got you pegged in one huh Chief?" But then felt a little uncomfortable as the tiny woman stepped up to me. She barely came to halfway up my chest, four feet at most to my 6 feet 2. But those dark eyes seemed to give her a huge presence that was almost inspiring. And they were fixed on me with the same intensity they had been earlier on my partner. Now I felt myself dissected and revealed entirely.

Her doll-like hand came up and fluttered softly on the fabric of my jacket right over my heart, and she nodded and then smiled. Her voice was soft and reassuring this time and I waited for the translation with anticipation. "She says do not be so afraid of that which you can not control 'Protector', nor grieve for mistakes made. If the two of you traveled so much of the world and yet still found each other as you where meant to, can you question that all that happens is for a reason and that you can only command so much."

"Hah! Pegged YOU in one also huh big guy. Love to see you explaining 'house rules' to her!" Sandburg's mischievous voice burbled happily beside me. Now I remember, I had forgotten to keep my promise to myself to throttle him. Maybe now was that appropriate time I'd waited for.

Why is it that my carefully concealed, deeply buried, completely denied fear response seemed to jump out at every mystic seer type I met? First Incacha, then Sandburg, now this total stranger! Couldn't very well take it out on this diminutive elder,…. but Sandburg on the other hand… I reached up and mussed his hair furiously one handed.

"Arggghhhh, JIM! Not the hair man!" But it did shut him up.

Chortling deeply the big man who had first spoken introduced us to the people in the room. His elder was his grandmother whose name I couldn't even pronounce after two try's, though my partner caught it immediately. But it was Sioux for spring song. She was a tribal elder and a 'wise woman' or 'medicine woman'. The beautiful dark haired woman sitting by the head of the bed absently stroking the young heart recipient's head was Mrs. Two Rivers, his wife, Takina. And he was Lucas Two Rivers, Mary's father.

The patient, Mary Two Rivers was a fifteen-year old honors student already taking classes in Junior College. Like her great grandmother she had dark, owl like eyes. But she had her father's height. Barely an adolescent she was already as tall as Blair, with a stockier build like an Olympic swimmer. Her chest was swathed in deep layers of gauze and tubes of every size and description issued from under the thick dressing. It should have been a sight to elicit pity and despair. Yet there was such an air of pride and hope about the young woman that the magnitude of what she had undergone seemed a mere inconvenience.

She extended a hand to Sandburg and he moved forward to take it with exaggerated care. But the youngster pulled him forward and ignoring a dozen tubes pressed him into a hug. "Thank you Sir. I know that you took great risk." Her large dark eyes swung to encompass me in a visual hug, "And that your friend was hurt on my behalf." Releasing my teary eyed partner she leaned back heavily, momentarily feeling the weight of her recent procedure and the duty of her future. "I will try to do honor to the person whose sacrifice gave me this heart, and my two brave protectors. Thank you." For a moment the solemn strong face crumpled into a child's, too quickly faced with such heavy responsibility. Instantly Sandburg knelt by her, taking her hand in his.

"Thank YOU!" He whispered gently. "For being so kind to save that little boy. For being so strong to fight and live long enough for a new heart to be found. For being so brave to have faced and conquered such an operation. And lastly for being so rare and special a lady." Leaning forward he kiss the back of her hand, pointedly ignoring the I.V.'s he had to fit between. It was the height of gallantry and the young, soon to be woman, joined the ranks of ladies hopelessly in love with my partner.

Before anyone could dissolve into tears the door to the room swung open to admit a dark angularly handsome older man. Looking between him and the group around the bed I noticed a strong resemblance between Mrs. Two Rivers and the newcomer. But it was Blair's response to the man that really threw me.

"Mr. Big Tree?" He asked obviously stunned. But the name was one I knew. John Big Tree was the proud former owner of Tonka, the now deceased scooter.

"Mr. Sandburg? What are you doing here?" The two looked about even on the surprise scale.

In answer the elderly grandmother spoke in rapid, impossible to understand Sioux, apparently filling in the missing pieces for this obvious family member.

Meanwhile I could see that my partner was trying to figure out how to tell this man that he had turned his beloved, perfectly maintained Vespa into what resembled a modern art sculpture.

Any explanation became moot though as the man suddenly turned to Blair and enveloped him in a hug that made the anthropologists eyes bulge. The Sentinel in me almost jumped to his defense from the crushing boa constrictor like embrace. But as quickly as he had pounced the emotional photographer let go and took a step back, obviously embarrassed by the display. "You are the one who brought my sweet Mary her heart! They told me the story of the theft, but I never knew it was the gentleman who I left my Tonka with." He was beaming, his face open and joyous. The others in the room seemed amused by there effusive relative but they remained quiet through the exchange.

Mrs. Two Rivers rose and swung her arms around Mr. Big Tree's neck, gave him a quick peck on the cheek and turned to us to explain.

"John is my big brother. I didn't connect your name from when he told us that he had loaned his old scooter to a student at the University. I am terrible with names, even when we read of the chase in the papers I didn't recognize the name. So you were on old Tonka when you were…." Her bright voice trailed off and her eyes got wide as she remembered what she had read in the paper.

Sandburg winced as he saw the look of first shock then alarm cross her face, though she resumed smiling as her mouth snapped shut.

John Big Tree didn't miss the little exchange and turned questioning eyes to my partner whose eyes fell in shame.

"Mr. Big Tree." Sandburg voice was the subdued tone of a man about to confess to a murder. "I am SO sorry. I cannot begin to tell you. I just really HAD to catch the guy, you know. He had the heart. I just couldn't not, you see. So I was chasing the thief and well we sort of cornered him in the old Hartman wreck and he shot at me, but he hit Jim, but just in the arm, but he was going to finish the job and then Tonka sort of reared up and mowed him down and we cuffed the bad guy and got the heart back, but the throttle was tangled with my backpack strap and Tonka sort of flew across the room and slammed into the wall, which was marble or it might not have been so bad, but it was marble so it was bad and I tried to get her fixed but the mechanic just pretty much said no way and I AM SO SORRY!"

In was interesting to see that glazed eyed look on someone else's face. John Big Tree's mouth had dropped open and he stared with disbelief that anyone could fit that much in one breath. But then he must have sorted through the avalanche of words and understood what had happened.

His face broke into a big grin and he swept Sandburg into another rib exploding hug. "Mr. Sandburg, you have nothing to be sorry about. Mary is my favorite, and ONLY niece. That my little Tonka helped you get back the heart of someone I love soooo much, I could not think of a better fate for her. Now please don't even think about it anymore. I only wish I could thank you a million times for saving Mary."

I watched with humor as the kid almost stumbled as he backed away rapidly when it looked like Big Tree was about to get make another grab at him.

He smiled broadly and held his hands up in a stopping motion. "No! Not necessary, was glad to do it, so was Jim. Just glad your okay with loosing your Tonka. She was a great little bike and I thank you for letting me use her."

The next half-hour was spent talking and sharing. Blair had the seat of honor on the bed right by Mary's pillow and she and my partner discussed at length plans for the intelligent young woman to matriculate to Reinier the following year.

But finally a nurse came in to remind everyone that Mary needed to rest after what she had been through. The girls father and mother again thanked us both and chuckled as Blair suffered another squeezing from the grateful uncle.

The drive home was much more upbeat than the drive to the hospital had been. Blair was so relived that the heart had been retrieved in time to save such a wonderful child. He was really hyped on the fact that Tonka's owner had ended up related to the girl. "There is no such thing as coincidence Jim. This is one of those cosmic intersection type things man. Cool huh!"

I listened to him burble away, soothed by the happiness and contentment in his voice. When I pulled up to our building he was still chatting away. For a moment his eyes went to the rack just in the doorway where he had been locking up the little Vespa each night. But except for a brief sigh he continued his conversation undeterred.

Arriving in the elevator on the third floor we both were a little stumped to find a huge box sitting in front of the door to the loft. Slightly bigger than two feet wide, four feet long and three feet high the cardboard carton was addressed to Blair with no return address.

Never one to take anything for granted I quickly ran the container through the Sentinel on-site smell and sound check. Sandburg lifted his eyebrow's in silent question for my findings. He knew I would check it.

"No ticking, no smell of chemicals associated with explosives." I reported.

"Well what do you think it is?" Despite my all clear there was a little anxiety in that question.

"Well Darwin, let's save the guessing for the next time you decide to disarm a bomb. JUST OPEN IT!" I growled, though his grin told me he was totally ignoring the tone and picking up big time on the fondness in my glance.

Pulling his ever-present Swiss Army knife he scored the cardboard down the middle and then got a good grip and hauled away the front layer.

Both of our eyes almost popped out.

There, partial nestled in millions of little white plastic packing peanuts sat a brand new, sparkling metallic blue Vespa scooter! I began shaking my head in denial as Sandburg swept up a blue card envelope taped to the bike seat.

I just stood there staring as my partner quickly read the missive, his mouth moving unconsciously as he perused the words.

Looking up his eyes were like fireworks. "Hey Jim. She's from the Shriner's man. They read about how Tonka gave her life in the line of duty and they thought it only right to replace her."

THIS CANNOT BE HAPPENING! NoNoNo. But it was.

Within a second the little Tonka clone was out of the box and being rolled toward the elevator.

"Hey come on Jim, lets take her for a ride, break her in." He chuckled as he dangled the keys in front of his face. "I'll even let you steer this time."

As he pushed the scooter into the elevator car I rolled my eyes to heaven and prayed for patience. Then his voice echoed back to me…. "You coming Kemosabi?"

I smiled and moved to join him. "Always, Tonto!"

Always….

End.


End file.
